An alien abduction? Me? Can't be! I simply don't have a thing to wear! I mean, whatever would I bring to such an event? My smallsword? A tinfoil hat? My trumpet? And would I need a warm coat, or just a light jacket? Will I be allowed to leave a note for my wife about where I'm going and when I can be expected back? And I really SHOULD tell them at work, too.

Why, good Amos, thou dost mistake me! Might I suggest that thou lookest to King Lear, Act II, Scene II, by one William Shakespeare, late playwright and actor of London? Invective written by one far more capable than a mere automaton or even by myself!

Is Rapaire going to be abducted by aliens? Are they going to be Romilarians or Robitussians? I certainly hope it's not going to be the Mentholyptusians! I don't even want to talk about them! Shudder! Gasp!

Just one small correction, good friend; you responded by invoking a mindless and intentionless on-line Elizabethan Insult algorithm, a piece of oxymoronic artificial intelligence that ended up being artificial, but unintelligent.

I note with care that you have not spoken to the point I raised about your alteration of the Bard, costing his precious line all sense. Instead, you unleashed this synthetic hurricane of lazy insults borrowed from a cheap software machine, and then proceeded to assert the reverse of all actuality, by claiming erudition for yourself and seeking -- most unjudiciously -- to impugn and saddle me with your own acts of calumny.

You are, sir, but a poor mirror of a man, a shadow of a soul, a thin stream of badly-reflected smoke among the gracious trees of fine thought. Go to.

As I have so cogently explained, there is no problem or argument. Amos has called my erudition into question, and I have responded with the reasoned argument and quiet dignity that befits me. He, on the other hand, has resorted to name-calling, falsehoods, and outright untruths and slanders.

Look, all of you, if you're going to be petty and pedantic pains in the neck, then don't get it right first time. What's the point in settling something straight off when we can argue all week about it? Or is that just conspiring to make MOAB even longer?

Now have I suceeded in annoying everyone by putting an excessivly long and well padded piece of text in a hard to read HTML effect. I sure hope so.

FIGHT!

Amos and Rapaire are having a fight!

FIGHT!

FIGHT!

what a minute - we went through all this just this mornig, didn't we... right - I'll scream "Fight!" and then Amos will come on and deny it - the Rapaire will insult him again, and I'll yell "Fight! Fight!" - but Amos will claim , nonononono, he and Rap never fight...

Amos! Thou callest me ignorant? Youknave, you rascal, you are an eater of broken meats; a base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound, filthy, worsted-stocking knave; a lily-liver'd, action-taking knave; a whoreson, glass-gazing, superserviceable, finical rogue; one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a bawd, in way of good service, and who art nothing but the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pandar, and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch! Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou!. What a brazen-faced varlet, to so insult me! You rogue, you whoreson, cullionly, barber-monger! You rascal, you puppet's part, you neat slave, you whoreson zed! You unnecessary letter! You unbolted villain, you paint for the wall of a jakes, you wagtail!

The alteration of Shakespeare, dear Sir, was yours, and with that tiny alteration, you unleashed a plethora of error in meaning.

Observe that in the Bard's orignal context, the line spoken is:

If 'tis true 'tis a pity, and pity 'tis 'tis true.

Which you revised in your transcription to the much less grammatical:

If 'tis true 'tis a pity, and the pity 'tis 'tis true. .

My correction of which stands firm.

The original line would be construed to read, if expanded, "...and pity it is it is true" (the 'that' being implicit between first "is" and second "it".)

But not your version, which cannot be so construed because you added the definite article "the" before the noun "pity".

One can only conclude, having been through this brief but precise analysis, that you should be advised in proportion to your small but powerful slip, "neener, neener, neener", as befits the circumstances.

It's a pleasure to be able to visit Mom so easily, and I was mostly planning on taking a gander and leaving again, but then my ear was assailed with audible BS from the radio. From the BBC, of all things.

We used to have a wonderful talk show host here in the Fort Worth and Dallas area, Glenn Mitchell, who had a two hour program at noon for the last 10 years. Glenn died suddenly right before Thanksgiving (he was 55). The station has floundered to not only fill the time, but fill it with something comparable, a very tough thing to do. The first hour is a talk show, but the second is this goofy BBC stuff, called "Outlook," consisting of far too many trite and insipid conversations. Right now they are discussing why women shave their armpits. They've had such lightweight stuff as the marriage between first cousins of the Pakistani population in the U.K., chat with loopy stars and local folks who became celebrities for inane reasons. Now this is worthy of being called BS, but in a dismissive way. It's lower-case bs.

Just venting. Back to your regular high-quality material. Maybe we'll even see BWL here more often now for some wonderfully warped renditions of life in and around his downed timber!

lch liebe dich is german for lch love you. Thankyou's you "cats" are so helpful.

At about 11:30 last night FINIALLY found a great translation sight:

http://freetranslation.imtranslator.net/

I was awaken this morning at 4:30 by the sound of a dog barking outside my window above mainstreet in town. Opening the blinds to discover a freshly fallen shroud of snow covering my pickup parked on the street in front of the building i live in. And a Park Rapids Patrol car in front of my truck. I turn on the scanner to hear my resistration and name replied by disspatch. They were going to have it towed to impound for the being parked in a snow removal zone. Which extends from 2:00 to 5:00. There was 2 -2 1/2 inches of snow at most. Just the same didnt want to take the chance and proceed getting dressed and sloth like mossey out to brush the snow from the windshield. Yet the city patrolman sits and watches and after a bit. Drives slowly off with that look on his face. "Damit, just one more minute and we'd of had another 40 bucks for our dounut and coffee fund. I grin and wave as he proceeds on by. Thinking "Jerome, bad Karma's going to come down on you for thinking that". Oh well... In a way it made my day thou. And yes i know next time i may sleep thru it and wont be so lucky. And then i'll pay.. But until then all you "Cats". Have a wounderful day..peace...

Good Amos! I prithee, forebear thy criticism and brush up your Shakespeare! Specifically, The Tragical History of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, Act II, Scene II, where Polonius is telling Gerty of the reason (in his opinion) for Hamlet's madness:

Pol. Madam, I swear I use no art at all. That he is mad, 'tis true; 'tis true 'tis pity, And pity 'tis 'tis true. A foolish figure! But farewell it, for I will use no art. Mad let us grant him then; and now remains That we find out the cause of this effect, Or rather say, the cause of this defect, For this effect defective comes by cause. Thus it remains, and the remainder thus. Perpend. I have a daughter - have whilst she is mine - Who, in her duty and obedience, mark, Hath given me this. Now gather, and surmise. [Reads] the letter. "To the celestial and my soul's idol, the most beautified Ophelia," That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase; "beautified" is a vile phrase. But you shall hear. Thus: "In her excellent white bosom, these."

I apologize for the inexactness of my quotation, but I felt that you of all people would recognize the words of The Bard of Avon.

There is no such thing. I have every respect for the man. He is rich in reference, heady in erudition, quick in quotation, wallowing in wisdom and up to his ears in pith. I have nothing but the greatest affection for him, our own Uberbookenmeister, the Mudcat's favorite information-head, a gentleman, a scholar, an upright citizen several times a week, a man of taste, clarity, distinction and eloquence.

Rapaire and I are kindred souls, and the only reason we occasionally spark (never "fight") is that we are too alike.

The contraction 'tis is derived for "it" + "is", as you know perfectly well. It should therefore be clear that using it in the expression "the pity is" is in appropriate. Your correct choices in this expression would be either "the pity o' 'tis, 'tis true" which I find awkward, or "the pity is, 'tis true".

This has been pointed out to you before. Don't make me come over there.

I will go, I will go, When the fighting is over To the Hopeful Land of George Which I left to be a soldier I will go, I will goooooooo.

No, really. I didn't listen to the State of Union rant last night, except for a few moments in the car while driving home from fencing. And even those few moments weren't very enthralling. I mean, where were the stirring phrases, the call to action, the emotion, the soul-stirring passages? Why, it sounded like a staged speech with "Applause" signs on the wall behind the speaker! Has the oratory of the world come to this?? Where are the thunders of Daniel Webster, of William Jennings Bryan, of Ralph Ingersoll, of Martin Luther King, of Patrick Henry, of Lord North, of Daniel O'Connell, of Padraic Pearse, of Rodney Claphart? Gone, all gone!

Actually, I don't think the ban was for anything I said or did. One of the admins seems to have a bit of a Napolean Complex and a great dislike for America Online. It apparently gives him a thrill to ban AOL members. It was implied that I could still play, but not from my current IP address. What a crock! As if anyone would want to continue contributing to a site where admins can behave in such a juvenile fashion?

My sister which i was just reaquanted with this past week end for the first time in 15 years. Sent me a short story summing up her 9 1/2 hour journey, to here and back. She signed the story at the end with some German jargin i've been trying to translate with no avail.

As we said tonight, "Touche, mon vieux! Vous etes mort, Mort!" A quick counter-sixte, a short extension, a touch on the bicep, a small slash to cut the muscle, the drop of the epee, the recovery, the lunge,the blade passing through the lung, the pinkish froth of the wound and on the lips, the withdrawal, the final salute, the collapse, the surgeons, the whispered request for "Mercy," the miserecord through the jacket and into the heart.... Ah, another night at the Fencing Club!

I have some great news! After a couple of months lurking at the Wikipedia parody site "The Uncyclopedia" (http://uncyclopedia.org/wiki/Main_Pageposting), I finally decided to post some stuff to it. Well, after only three contributions, I have been BANNED! My particular brand of BS has been deemed unworthy of the most blatantly bullshit website on the Internet! Yes, it's true!

The reason given for the ban is "Get a life, get a job, get a haircut, get whatever, but just get the fuck out of here!"

I love it!

My only regret is that I was unable to submit my article about the Flying Fucks before I got banned, so...

The Flying Fucks

The Flying Fucks were a popular circus trapeze act whose active career spanned the roughly thirty-year period from the early 1960s to the early1990s.

Personnel...

Like many circus acts, The Flying Fucks were all members of a single extended family. Though the actual personnel during any given year was subject to change due to drug busts, court-ordered rehab stints, and recuperation from gunshot wounds, the following family members all performed at various times during the family's career:

The Flying Fucks came from a long line of circus people. Unfortunately, the line only included sideshow barkers, cotton-candy sellers, and elephant shit shovelers, not performers. How Buddy Fuck, a ticket-taker, and Mother Fuck, a popcorn vendor, ever got up the nerve to climb to the top of the circus tent and learn to fly on the trapeze is still a mystery, though legend has it that copious amounts of alcohol and/or illegal drugs were involved. Whatever the circumstances, the two Fucks continued practicing after hours and eventually became very proficient aerialists. As soon as their children, nieces and nephews became old enough, they too were taught the aerialist's skills, and by 1964 the family troupe began performing for packed houses. From 1964 until 1967, the Flying Fucks performed for the Ned Beatty and Soul Brothers Circus. Then, in January of 1968, during the circus's off-season, The Flying Fucks accepted an engagement performing between acts at a three-day rock festival featuring the band The Great Full Bed. That gig was the beginning of a decades' long relationship between The Flying Fucks, The Bed, and the band's followers who called themselves "Bedheads". The Flying Fucks' opening act and between-set performances were often the highlight of Bed concerts, the members of the band being too stoned to play more often than not. This relationship lasted until the death of the Bed's lead guitarist, Mister Potatohead, the result of a two-week binge of kitten huffing.

The Act...

The Flying Fucks' trapeze act was notable for two unique stunts. A few minutes into each performance, one of the Fucks would roll a six-foot-tall foam donut along a highwire and the other members of the troupe would dive from their trapezes through the hole in the giant donut. This was known as "A Flying Fuck at a Rolling Donut". The other unique stunt was always the finale' of a Flying Fuck performance. All the members of the troupe would dive from their trapezes in unison and each would pass through a large hoop with a tissue-paper moon stretched over it. This was known as "A Flying Fuck at the Moon".

Beyond the Act...

As a result of the Flying Fucks' association with the Great Full Bed and their Bedhead fans, The Flying Fucks eventually found themselves drawn into the underworld of LSD, MDA, STP, PCP, DMT, XYZ and a bunch of other letters as well. All of the Fucks openly experimented with whatever they could get their hands on, but after a few missed catches, mid-air crashes, and broken bones they decided that it made more sense to make the stuff than eat it. So, Butt Fuck took a correspondence course in chemistry and the Flying Fucks tour bus became a designer drug lab. The Flying Fucks' illicit products soon became the drugs of choice among Bedheads. Their best known products were two different types of blotter acid, one featuring a picture of the rolling donut from their trapeze act, and the other featuring a picture of the moon. People who took either of them were said to be either "Taking a Flying Fuck at a Rolling Donut" or "Taking a Flying Fuck at the Moon".

The End...

As previously mentioned, the Flying Fucks ceased actively performing when Great Full Bed guitarist Mister Potatohead died in 1994. They have all retired to an island off the coast of France where they raise sheep which they rent by the half-hour to visiting Scotsmen, Australians and New Zealanders.

I recognize that piece -- Mere de Chaussee, I think...1961, Berkeley Pronuclear Press, Summat-under-Dawedder, as I recall. Sigh. For a librariarian you sometimes are skimpy with source references, Good Rapaire. IS this a sort of backlash from too much time spent Deweying much about nothing?

HAD we but Pu239 enough, and Time, These explosions Lady were no crime. We would sit down, and think which what To destroy, and pass our explosive out. Thou by the Indian Ganges side Should'st U235 find: I by the Tide Of Humber would complain. We would Explode things ten years before, and flood: And you should (if you built a shed) Effect the Conversion of some lead. Our mutated vegetables should grow Vaster then Empires, and more slow. An hundred years should go before we raise The shelter's lidded door and Gaze Out upon the blasted moor Where once did frolick Fawns and more. But at my back I alwaies hear Times winged Charriot hurrying near: And yonder all before us lye Cities we did cause to Frye. Beauty shall no more be found; Nor, in their marble Vault, a sound. Now therefore, while the youthful hew Sits on thy skin like morning [dew] And while thy willing Soul transpires At every pore the nuckleer Fires, Now let us sport us while we may; And now, like am'rous birds of prey, Rather at once our Time devour, Than languish with our Awesome pow'r. Let us roll all our Strength, and all Our fissionables, up into one Ball: Thus, and we can make our Sun, Our own Sun, and we will make him run.

Ah. I wasn't aware of the discovery of Bs. I was taught the elements from 1 through 217, but that was years and years back and in my high school chemistry class. Granted, we had to create elements 104 to 217, but that wasn't a problem because back then we were well educated young people, not like nowadays when the students couldn't build a linear accelerator or a cyclotron or bevatron out of tinfoil and burnt matchsticks if their lives depended upon it. Why, did you know that Quantum Mechanics and Tensor Calculus aren't even taught in the grade schools anymore??? I was shocked, I tell you, shocked to my very core! Back in my day we only had a slide rule and/or an abacus to work out problems, but today, even with all the fancy calculators and computers you can't find a sixth grader who can integrate a nested trig function correctly! And as for matrices, well, just forget it!

Bullshitonium (bs) has been around for a long time, Rapaire. It floats freely in atmosphere, but there are two conditions which unstabilize it. One is when a certain amount of gravity is injected into the atmosphere, which tends to make Bs expand unless it is the far rarer isotope known as Bs -g. That isotope tends to permeate and levitate in the presence of atmospheric gravity and dispel the density thereof.

The other destabilizing effect is when Bs -g encounters Administrarium which is composed of a high concentration of Bs+G anyway; small explosions at random tend to ensue.